


1am

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment of reminiscing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1am

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter of any of its contents, nor am I making any money off this. 
> 
> Gift for the wonderful Queen of the Universe, Vlora, on LJ, who asked for Draco/Neville remembering 7th year. Thanks again for your help and friendship, darling! ♥

Neville forgot about the bulbs that need covering. Apparently moonlight shrivels them up. Draco didn’t help, of course; he doesn’t like to get dirt under his fingernails. But he did remind his forgetful husband about it, because as much as he doesn’t like to sleep alone, he does love Neville, and Neville loves his garden.

Neville’s a bashful elephant. He wakes Draco up the minute he creaks their door open, though he tries to creep across the floor as silently as possible. Draco lifts one eyelid and lazily watches Neville pull his sweatervest over his head. It scrunches up his shirt with it, messing up his brown hair. Then he unbuttons the shirt underneath, half-facing Draco, so that Draco gets a lovely view of Neville’s six-pack, awash in the moonlight through their bedroom window. Draco specifically doesn’t close his curtains for this reason. Even when Neville doesn’t know he has an audience, his clumsy strip show makes Draco salivate. Neville’s just as toned as he was when he first signed up to be an Auror, and the memory of what those strong arms can do echoes on Draco’s skin.

Neville’s been a vision ever since seventh year, when everything changed. Draco often wonders how he could’ve been such an idiot and let someone so perfect slip through his fingers for so many years. Then he reminds himself that Neville wasn’t the same person before that, and Draco couldn’t be expected to know what he’d become. Seventh year changed everything. It took the boys they were and made them men, and Draco still has the scars.

He has the memories even stronger. The image of Neville, standing up to all the cruel overseers Draco helped bring to power, rising up and fighting them back. Draco still can’t fathom why Potter got all the credit. At Hogwarts, where everything important happened, Neville was the hero. He was the one that protected all the other students, sheltered them and defended them, gave them strength and hope. He even took the shell Draco had become and coaxed him back into humanity, until Draco just knew that when it came to the Dark Lord... he just couldn’t do it anymore.

Neville’s sore sigh brings Draco back to reality, and Neville stretches his arms above his head, groaning. He spends too much time hunched over in the greenhouses, and he works too hard. He walks over to their attached bathroom, through the door and out of Draco’s line of sight. Draco hears the tap running and then plastic banging on it; Neville’s brushing his teeth.

This all started in a bathroom, with Draco sobbing in a corner, having never quite learned that bathrooms weren’t the best place to do that. It was supposed to be an abandoned bathroom, anyway, and he figured Potter wasn’t there anymore. And he needed a break, and Slytherin was too full of snakes. Hiding from the Carrows, Neville had slipped in and caught him, and where Draco expected a fight, all he got was sympathy.

Neville’s stronger than anyone ever gave him credit for. He’s a protector and a fighter, but he’s also warm and forgiving, and when Draco let it all out, Neville had told him it would be alright. The light would win—he’d been so _sure_ of it—and everything would be alright. Back then, Draco couldn’t do anything but laugh. Everything was crumbling.

Now everything is _wonderful_ , and the scars Draco got in that same washroom are fading. Neville defended Draco when he wouldn’t use the Unforgiveables on other students in class, and Neville’s still scarred in several places from the punishments that earned him. Draco’s said thank you for every one, both back then and now. He’s kissed them a thousand times, just like every part of Neville, and back then, whenever they could find a place that the Carrows wouldn’t find them, Draco would try to heal what he could. He was never very good at being brave, but he wasn’t any better at being ruthless or truly cruel. The dark army... was not what he thought it would be.

Neville’s everything he ever promised. He gave Draco strength back then, and hope, a kiss behind statues or a look between classes. Draco had never had anyone look out for him before, not unconditionally and perilously, like that. After seventh year, how could Draco have ever wanted anyone else?

Neville kissed Draco at his trial. All the charges were dropped, and Draco clung so hard to Neville that he might’ve broken one of those bones the Carrows tried so hard to crush. After the account of seventh year and the other two trials for each parent, bringing Neville home was easy. He is, after all, a pureblood, and Draco’s more than proud to wear Neville’s ring.

The bathroom light clicks off, and Neville strolls out, walking straight to the bed and slipping in, and Draco shuffles over to make room. Neville’s bare legs bump into Draco’s, and Draco sighs contentedly. Neville whispers, “Sorry I woke you.” He rolls onto his stomach, turning his head sideways in the pillow to smile at Draco.

Draco shifts closer to peck his cheek, murmuring, “Sore?”

Neville breathes out heavily. “And stiff. And tired.”

Nodding, Draco slowly sits ups, knocking the blankets down. Neville looks at him curiously, but Draco ignores it, and he climbs over to throw one leg around Neville’s back, straddling him. Neville ‘oof’s, and Draco sits down on his ass, reaching out to his shoulder blades. Draco starts to knead the warm flesh underneath him, soothing the smooth skin and admiring the handsome sight.

Neville sighs, “You’re the best husband ever.”

Draco purrs, “My hero.”


End file.
